


end of small sanctuary

by Dorminchu



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I have too many feelings okay, Introspection, Literal Sleeping Together, My First Work in This Fandom, No Spoilers, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorminchu/pseuds/Dorminchu
Summary: Sometimes but not too often, Sam dreamt. Most times he didn't.
Relationships: BB-28 | Louise & Sam Porter Bridges
Kudos: 25





	end of small sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only up to Chapter Two, so no spoilers if you please.

Sometimes but not too often, Sam dreamt. Most times he didn't. The dream itself was always escaped quickly, and he was back in his own body with the same old aches and stiffness that came from stress or more rarely, inactivity.

On the bed, his fingers would search for the dreamcatcher resting idle across his breast. Amelie's—his.

He tried not to consider where she was now—it only ever made him feel uneasy.

Private quarters were a blessing at times. Others, Sam wished he were outside where he could piss without having to anticipate another verbal interruption by Deadman or Die-Hardman. Hell, at least they couldn't read his mind.

He would look at BB-28—safe in the pod, plugged into the opposite wall—and wonder if it could tell what he was thinking. For a defective type, it was pretty lucid. Slept a lot, mostly, which surprised him on the road. Only cried when he was submerged too long in water—rivers were hell on them both—or if he was careless upon descent and took a nasty fall.

He sometimes got the feeling it was looking out for him—but no, that was crazy. He'd been alone too long, and his mind was making up stories.

* * *

He did have one nice memory, though; during the Wind Farm delivery, he'd been running on his canteen and little sleep. The forest was crawling with BTs, and they surely would have overtook him, if not for BB. It was around that point that he'd started to appreciate the additional company—work was lonely, and talking to himself got old quick. He'd unloaded the packages, punched in the coordinates for the delivery, verified his success, then slumped down to the cold metal floor and slept for half an hour while the holographic figure offered prerecorded thanks, BB-28 safe under his breast, in his hands.


End file.
